My sister wanted my Alpha, so she and our parents poisoned me with wolfsbane. She erased her own scent, put on my nightgown, and sat on my marriage bed to wait for him to come home. My parents dreamed of seeing her wear the Luna's silver crown in my place and bear the strongest heir of all. When the door opened, she blushed and went to meet him, reaching up to remove his bloodstained cloak. She had yet to learn that killing was not the black wolf's most dangerous gift. The beast who struck terror into all seven clans could smell the blood beneath a lie.

The day I went in to have my bandages changed, my vision returned without warning. All I wanted was to surprise my husband with the news. Instead, through the hospital's one-way observation window, I saw Adrian Hawthorne bend down and kiss another woman. He slipped the blue diamond ring my mother had left me onto her finger, then crouched and pressed his ear to her flat stomach. Someone in the lounge asked, "Eve has been blind for over a year. You had Julian take your place every night so you could be with your mistress. Aren't you worried they'd actually fall for each other?" Adrian laughed. "My brother wouldn't even spare a glance for a naked model in his bed. Eve is blind. He'd be even less interested in her. "I almost feel sorry for Julian. Even I'd kill for a body like his, but all he ever does in Eve's room is change her dressings and read to her. He hadn't even climbed into her bed. What a waste." Laughter drifted through the half-open door. I turned my head. Julian Hawthorne stood in the hallway, holding my coat and white cane. An old scar slanted across his collarbone beneath his collar. For the past 18 months, I had traced that scar in the dark whenever a nightmare woke me. So the man who stayed beside my bed every night had never been my husband. I put my blindfold back on and held out my hand to Julian. Adrian was right about one thing. Leaving a man like that untouched for so long really was a waste. Tonight, I'd find out how much longer my pretend husband could resist me.

Noah was in his final semester of nursing school and still needed $1,800 for tuition. I sold the wedding ring my grandmother Rose had worn for 47 years. The pawnshop gave me exactly $1,800. That night, I picked up a shift at the upscale karaoke bar to cover our overdue rent. There, I saw Noah—the man who had worn a convenience-store uniform that morning—sitting in the center of a private room in a custom-made suit. The liquor bill came to $73,000. The antique watch on his wrist was worth $200,000. The vintage sports car he'd just won was worth $1,200,000. And my ring had been worth only $1,800. Someone laughed. "We look for girls with no money, pretend we're broke, date them, then bet on whose girlfriend will sacrifice more." The car keys were tossed to Noah. "Congratulations. You win." I stood outside the door, still holding the staff meal I'd saved to bring home for him. So the stupid woman they'd been talking about—the one who'd sold a family heirloom for her broke boyfriend— Was me.

On the day Ryan was named captain of the Westbridge Hawks, I stood outside the locker room and heard him dismiss the 2 years we'd spent together. To help him rise from the bench to the starting lineup, I got up at 5:20 a.m. 4 mornings a week. I caught passes for him, timed his drills, filmed his training, and reviewed game footage with him. My palms were thick with calluses, and my right ring finger was almost always wrapped in athletic tape. At noon, I fastened a discontinued Rolex my older cousin had helped me track down around his wrist. That night, one of his teammates asked, "Evelyn's done so much for you. Are you really going to push her away for Naomi?" Ryan laughed. "She won't leave. But NFL scouts aren't going to notice me just because she gets up at five every day." Naomi claimed she was the heiress to a hotel group. She said her father sponsored an invitation-only prospect showcase attended by NFL scouts—and that she could secure Ryan a spot. Ryan believed her. What he didn't know was that Julian Vale, the man Naomi claimed was her father, was actually mine. And Cliffside Estate, the property she promised to open for everyone, was in my name too. I was the real heiress.

While scrolling through a post on Facebook, my hand trembled. A blogger gave a very detailed account of how she caught her husband and his sister having sex in their bedroom. I'm also quite worried about being disgusted by something like this, because my fiancé has a sister. What I found out soon enough was that he wasn't just lukewarm toward her. He was cold, and on his worst days, he was cruel. I watched him pick up one of her calls with nothing at all on his face. He listened for a long stretch without saying a word, and then he answered in a low, flat voice, "Then go ahead and die." I felt sorry for her in that moment. What I learned later was that the one who deserved pity was me.

I fell asleep at my desk and dreamed about Arthur again. In the dream, we were in my apartment. Arthur was reading on the sofa. I scooted closer and rested my chin on his shoulder. "Darling," I whispered, "can I have a kiss?" By now, the Arthur in my dreams was used to how clingy I could be. He simply closed his book and turned to me. "Where?" I pointed to my lips. He leaned down. His breath had barely brushed my face when two light taps sounded by my ear. The next second, the living room vanished. The clatter of keyboards and the chill of the office air conditioning rushed in all at once. Arthur stood beside my desk, a faint crease between his brows. And my hand was wrapped tightly around the sleeve of his suit. "Miss Bennett." His gaze dropped to my hand. "Would you mind letting go?" I released him as if I'd been burned. "S-sorry." "Meeting in 3 minutes." With that, he turned and walked away. A few steps later, he lifted a hand to the corner of his mouth, then quickly lowered it again. I must have imagined it. The real Arthur didn't even know that, for the past 6 months, he had been my boyfriend in my dreams.

My fiancé still hadn't figured it out—that plain, mousy girl he used to call ugly was slowly getting between us. Ours was an arranged marriage, but we actually fell in love. Everyone told me I was lucky: a husband who loved me, more money than I'd ever need. But they didn't know about her. She'd been chasing him since high school. Back then, he cursed her out every time he saw her. He said he wouldn't touch her even if she were the last woman on earth. Then things changed. He started giving her jobs and covering for her mistakes. And he'd begun pushing me aside—for her. Even when we were in bed, his mind was somewhere else. I was starting to worry about our wedding.